The Doctor and the Almost Companions
by Writless
Summary: There's a good reason the Doctor travels alone sometimes. These are a few of them. A collection of one shots staring a multitude of characters, but mostly the Doctor.
1. Ten and the Poor Drunk Sod

_A/N: Just having a bit of fun here. They won't be in any order, they may not be particularly frequent, and they should all be short. They'll also largely include 10 and 11 until I get a better feeling for 12. Maybe some 9, but it's been ages since I've seen his episodes. Aiming for humor, but if I'm feeling particularly moody I might shoot for angst at some point? Anyway, let me know if it's dreadful and I should just quietly sweep it under the rug. Or let me know if you've got any ideas? I might try and follow up on those when I'm having trouble getting work done. Thank you for reading!_

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He leapt the last three steps in one go, his red trainers sticking the landing with a sharp squeak and then he was running down the hall to the exit. He stopped, his pursuer suddenly silent. Perhaps the sonic barrier had managed to hold.

A moment later there was the shattering sound of glass and metal, followed by a bellowed roar.

"Alright then," the Doctor tilted his head thoughtfully. "Wasn't a particularly effective trap. Good to know." The stairway groaned above his head and the concrete itself began to crumble and rain down on him from the enormous weight of the thousand pound slug as it smashed its way through the building. He jumped back in time to dodge a rather thick glob of the Flosforuxious' protective ooze as it spattered on the landing. He scooped up a bit with his finger and sniffed it tentatively. "Oh, he's mad alright." The Doctor said with a grimace. He wiped the excess on the floor and headed for the doors leading to the car park.

He locked them as he passed, doubting he'd get much more than a few seconds of bought time. Still, sometimes that was all he needed. He jogged out onto the dark pavement, the few cars illuminated by a single yellow lamp overhead. The Doctor pulled the vortex manipulator out from his pocket and adjusted the settings with his sonic screwdriver. He'd needed to update the coordinates, along with the time, considering the planet this Flosforuxious had come from was in a galaxy that hadn't yet been born. But falling through the odd crack in time and space would do that to a slug. Sometimes you just woke up on the wrong side of the universe.

"Now where is it," the Doctor muttered to himself as he rifled through the pockets of his long brown coat before producing a few long green stems of celery. The Flosforuxious would eat just about anything, remarkably similar to goats that way, but they were especially fond of their greens. "Here we are." He said as he tied the wrist strap of the manipulator around the celery and left it in plain view of the door before he set a timer on the device.

The door rattled and the Doctor could see the giant purple mass straining against the metal frame of the exit. He ducked behind a nearby car, just in case the Flosforuxious decided it would rather get even than have a nice light snack. The glass finally shattered outward and the purple ooze pushed through. Its furious growling was audible as it didn't crawl, so much as roll forward, across the car park. It must have spotted its prize at the far end because, though it was hard to be sure, it appeared to be picking up speed.

"Oi, sir. You've just left your produce in the road here." The Doctor jumped, startled by a young blond man of maybe twenty years who had appeared out of nowhere. He stared at the celery, somehow oblivious to the giant ball of purple slime headed his way.

"Yes," the Doctor hissed. "Just leave it!" He gestured for the man to join him behind the car.

"And a wristwatch," the man knelt and picked it up. "Looks expensive." He had, the Doctor noticed, a glazed look in his eyes, like perhaps he was already several pints gone into his Saturday night. How he'd ended up in an empty car park miles from the nearest pub was likely a mystery he wouldn't be able to solve even when he'd sobered up.

"It's really not," the Doctor groaned as the Flosforuxious continued to creep forward. "Very cheap really. Knock off. Can't even get a quid for it. Now, it's _really_ important that you come this way. _Quickly_."

The man swayed on his feet, considering it. "Yeah, but you've just _left_ it." He sounded offended, like the abandonment of vegetables and time pieces was a personal affront against his moral character.

"Yes. I have," the Doctor was more than a little frustrated as he came out from behind the car. "But you need to _run_. Now."

"Can't mate," the man shook his head with a pained expression. "Pulled me hammy at football." He squeezed the back of his leg tenderly. "D'you mind if I have it? Granddad collects this sort of thing."

"You've got to be kidding me," it crossed his mind to just leave him, but he ultimately decided against it. "Come on!" He was running toward him, hoping he could get there before the Flosforuxious had time to introduce itself properly.

"What's the fuss? You were just gonna _leave_ it."

"The _fuss_ is there's a giant slug monster behind you and if you don't move, it's definitely going to eat you and you're not going to like that!"

"You're taking the piss," the man snorted and turned around. The creature opened its mouth wide and roared, spraying mucus and protective slime all over him. "Aww, that's right _sick!_" The man complained just before the creature swallowed him whole. The Doctor skidded to a stop, pin wheeling his arms to avoid colliding with it. The Flosforuxious opened its slime filled maw, ready to take on another meal when it suddenly disappeared with a sharp pop, leaving behind a slick trail of goop as the only sign it'd been there at all.

The Doctor sighed, scratching the back of his head. He reluctantly pulled out a phone from his pocket, dialing in a number he'd memorized. "Yes, hello Jack!" His voice was filled with false cheer. "I just thought I'd mention I think I've got a lead on that missing manipulator of yours. Yeah, seems a Flosforuxious just…er, swallowed it. Along with the bloke who was holding it. Yeah," he nodded, listening to the string of profanities that followed. "Right. Damn those time bandits and their…thievery. Anyway, might want to retrieve that in the next, oh, seven hours. Before they're digested. Good man. Gotta run."


	2. Eleven and the Sandwich of Doom

"Blimey, these are good crisps." The Doctor said, a little surprised. He was sitting in a deli across the table from Adilah Jenkins. She was a lean, dark skinned young woman who had just proven herself to be quite indispensable when it came to sliding beneath two-ton solid steel security doors and escaping covert government ops. As far as skills went, the Doctor was impressed.

"Kettle chips," she said around a mouthful of sandwich, careful to keep her hand over her lips as she spoke. "They make them here in the shop."

"Excellent. Love a good shop." He took a sip of the coke he had ordered, they gave it to him in the bottle, but he had insisted on using a straw. He was a big fan of straws. "It's a relief," he added, adjusting his bow tie unconsciously. "To be sitting in a shop, instead of being dissected in an underground bunker. So, you know, thank you for that." He nodded gratefully in her direction. Things had certainly gotten a little more problematic than he'd originally anticipated. He couldn't say for sure he'd entirely given up hope by the time Adilah arrived, but nor could he say he'd been particularly optimistic when the surgeon had produced the electric bone saw.

"You are welcome, thank _you_ for the diverting afternoon."

"You know Adilah," he watched her thoughtfully across the table. "You're quite clever." He wondered now, if maybe he'd spent a few too many trips on his own. Solo travel was marvelous, but there were always drawbacks. Such as potentially getting harvested for organs. That was a pretty big drawback. Adilah seemed a reliable sort of person who had the kind of practical knowledge to stay alive. Which was usually the minimum requirement. Mostly it was his only requirement.

"Don't forget pretty," she batted her eyelashes as she shot him a cheesy grin.

"And modest too, the full package." He said with a grin, she merely grunted her agreement. "Tell me Adilah, have you got any plans for the summer?"

"Beyond saving a bizarre young gentlemen from an untimely death?" She shrugged. "Working at the water park part-time until school starts up again. Nothing especially exciting. Unless you consider rearranging folding chairs for four hours a day engaging."

"I was hoping you might say that. I've got a bit of a proposition for you." He leaned forward on the table now, a smirk forming on his lips. He always liked this bit, the sales pitch. His favorite game was to guess what they'd want to see first. Adilah struck him as a dinosaur kind of girl.

She raised her eyebrow at him skeptically. "Generally, guys buy me dinner _first_."

"And here we are, sharing a meal." He gestured to the deli.

"I had to pay."

"Fair point." He shrugged. "I never really get the hang of money. It's all very," he waved his hand flippantly, his face full of scorn. "_Archaic_."

"You could just say you're broke." She snorted.

"Right, well. Anyway. I plan to do a bit of traveling. It's possible it'll all get a bit dicey, and I was wondering if you'd-" he stopped mid-sentence, staring at her sandwich. It wasn't the sandwich he had a problem with, as much as what she was doing with it. She had pulled back the top slice of bread, and was carefully layering the crisps inside the sandwich. "I'm sorry, are you…are you putting crisps _in _the sandwich?"

She looked up as she raised the sandwich to her mouth. "Yeah, why?"

"Have you-" he squinted as she took a bite, feeling a physical pain as she did so. The crunching, which he had presumed to be lettuce, was just so _loud_ now. "Have you been doing that the _entire_ time?"

"Yeah, I've always done that. Are you okay?" She must have noticed the queasy look that had come across the Doctor's face.

"Wrong, so, _so_ wrong- Yes. I'm alright," he shook his head, trying to take his eyes off the offending sandwich. "I've just- I've never seen…" He couldn't make himself say it again. It was too profoundly disturbing. He felt ill just thinking about it. "Nothing. It's nothing." He cleared his throat and tried to smile.

"You're an odd duck," she said, shaking her head as she took another bite.

"So I've been told." He crossed his arms across his chest, restraining himself from hurling the sandwich somewhere where he wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

"You said something about traveling?" She prompted him when the silence had dragged on.

"Yes, I- No." He shook his head, suddenly adamant. "No. Not travel- Something else. Sitting. I'm a very active sitter. Yes, definitely, _not_ traveling. It's very dull, drab. Bleh. Anyway, I've just got to-" he stood up hastily, nearly knocking his coke off the table. "Thank you, you were extraordinarily helpful. Today. Really. I do appreciate that." He was stumbling backwards out of the deli. He was the last of the time lords, undefeated by age or enemy, and he was _retreating_. "I really must be going. Lovely meeting you."

"Uh. Okay. What about those people who were-" Adilah looked around, noting the other customers. "You know, the bad ones?" She made a snipping motion with her fingers, deciding against announcing to the whole serving area that there was an underground band of organ harvesters loose in the city. Clever, she was definitely clever. It was just too bad there was no saving her.

"Oh, UNIT will clean that up." He reassured her, while making a mental note to alert UNIT before he took off again. They were better with paperwork anyway. He stumbled over a chair, striking one of the patrons with his elbow. "Oh, sorry. Terribly sorry. I'll keep in touch!" He announced to Adilah as he rushed for the door, the small bell tinkling overhead as he pushed it open.

"You don't even have my number?" She sat there, her arms spread in confusion. He shrugged and scuttled away from the deli like the coward he was.

Some things could be fixed, time could be rewritten. But he could not, in all good conscious, take on a companion who ate her sandwiches that way.


	3. Eleven and the Otters

_A/N: Yes, I absolutely stole this from the new episode and I'm not at all ashamed. :D_

_Thank you to the lovely **Summer Rosewood **for your review! Thank you also ConfusedSoAmI, Fan Fictional Authoress, black91, Peacefuldeer21, Shadowntr, and pegasus47 for following the story!_

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"No." The tone was firm and unrelenting. The Doctor's cheery grin melted away beneath the uncompromising glare of Professor River Song.

"What do you mean _no_?" He was baffled by her resistance. She had been the one to leave him here, unsupervised. It shouldn't have surprised her that he would make some friends along the way. "There's absolutely no reason-"

"Doctor, I'm willing to put up with many things. But you are _not_ bringing that thing on this ship." She stood between the Doctor and the Tardis, which made this negotiation necessary. He was clever enough to know if he brought up the fact that it was _his_ ship she was making rules for, she'd likely leave him here for another month.

"He's not a _thing_," he said indignantly, brushing back his floppy hair so she could feel the full weight of his seriousness. "His name is Marty and he's marvelous."

"He's an _otter_." River's eyes narrowed on the small brown creature that was beginning to squirm in the Doctor's grip.

"Yes, alright. He's an otter. But I don't see how that makes him any less qualified than the usual sort I bring aboard. Besides, he's brilliant." He insisted stubbornly, even as River's eyebrow rose nearly to her hairline. "Go on Marty, show her the trick." He set the furry creature onto the ground and pulled out a set of colorful cups from the inner pocket of his jacket. He set them out separately and stepped back to give him space to work. He flashed an excited grin at River, but she seemed not to share his enthusiasm.

Marty waddled around on his short legs and sniffed at the cups before he scratched the back of his neck.

"Hah, old joker he is." The Doctor's smile faded somewhat as he crouched on the ground. "_Marty_. You're embarrassing us. Get it together." He said in a low voice before he stood up and straightened his bow tie nervously.

The lithe creature made a high pitched chirping noise, but began to pick up the cups. Carefully deciding which fit into where, like nesting dolls.

"Hah!" The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Well done, Marty! See? You see how brilliant that was? Tell me that won't come in handy in the future."

"He can stack cups?" River had a look resembling pity now. "Is that the sort of high bar you set for your companions?"

"Well, that and the running." He shrugged. She remained unconvinced. In fact, she was wearing that face that signaled they were nearing the end of an argument, and he was probably on the losing side. "What if there's some clever puzzle that needs solving? And he's a brilliant swimmer."

"Like a cup puzzle?" Her head and her glorious hair was tilted to the side, waiting for him to just throw in the towel.

"Yes. Or…some other type of puzzle, he's really much craftier than he looks. He's memorized at least fourteen different types of grass-"

"Sweetie," he stiffened at the word. Now he was _definitely_ sure he was about to lose. "I apologize for leaving you out here this long-"

"A month," he felt it was important that she knew exactly how long a month had felt to him. It had been years, _eons_.

"Yes. A _month_. Because you thought it was a good idea to try turning my hair into _snakes_. Which I can't say I necessarily minded, except for the fact that everything I looked at turned to stone-"

"Yes, but I sorted that. Faulty crown really, rubbish old technology-"

"Yes. You sorted it. And then promptly woke the thousand year old giant snake inhabitants, who were quite upset that their relic had been destroyed, and then chased us off the side of a cliff."

"Right. Lucky I parked the old girl down there." He smiled sheepishly, but that soon faded. "That was, admittedly, a bit unpleasant."

"It was a _bit_," her nose wrinkled, which made the Doctor suspect she had a few other choice words that she would have used to describe it other than 'unpleasant'.

"Sorry." He decided not to push his luck.

"I appreciate that," she said with a deep sigh. "I also appreciate now, that you're not the sort of man who learns his lesson from long bouts of banishment. You're the sort of man," she regarded Marty for a moment, who was now busy cleaning himself in a diligent manner. "Who finds a pack of otters and attempts to get adopted by them."

"I'm nearly there, they've stopped calling me 'not otter' and started calling me 'probably a badger'-"

"_So_," River interrupted him again. "I'm going to do you the favor of forgetting the Medusa debacle on what was _supposed_ to have been our anniversary, because you're an idiot. And I love you." Her tone was somewhat reluctant, but her green eyes sparkled with mirth.

A sly smile curled the Doctor's lips as he took a few steps closer to her, the distance between them little more than a hand span. "That's very gracious of you, Professor Song."

"Yes. Quite." She agreed as her hands snaked up his shoulders. Her fingers slid beneath the lapels of his tweed jacket as she stood on her toes so that their faces were nearly close enough to touch. "And you're going to do _me_ the favor of leaving dear Marty behind, because we've still got an anniversary to _properly _celebrate. I'm afraid an otter would be a bit more than you could handle."

"Oh, right. We could go on a picnic! Love a good picnic. I could take you to the Arroaish Plateau, the highest-"

She pressed a finger against his lips, peering up at him beneath her untamable hair. "I was thinking we might stay in."

"What would we stay in f-_Oh_." He said quite suddenly. "Right. That's an excellent suggestion. "Sorry Marty, got to dash." He scooped River up in one swift movement and carried her to the door of the Tardis. She snorted as she bounced in his arms, snapping her fingers so the door would open.

The Doctor paused just inside the Tardis. "Keep the cups, Marty. They're a gift, it's still a good-" but the rest of his message was lost, because a certain curly haired professor of archaeology had grabbed his face and given him a multitude of other things to occupy his mind.


End file.
